Somewhere in a Galaxy far, far away…
Mr. Kinetic, the mayor of Planet Affirm, settles at his desk to review his daily speech from his speechwriters.
“And when I am re-elected, I promise to upgrade all of our sensory shopping suits with the latest tactile technology.
No longer are temperature-controlled, light-filtering, and audio cancelling suits enough. It is high time that our valued sensory-shoppers had equal opportunity to reach out and squeeze produce for themselves!
These upgrades—500 sensors on each gloved fingertip—will give real-time tactile feedback, compare the findings to an ever-expanding database of fruits, and flash a ripeness indicator on the visual heads-up display. This will allow our shoppers to make the personal choice of preferred fruit ripeness for themselves, without ever running the risk of touching something rotten or squishy.
Re-elect Mr. Kinetic, and touch… THE FUTURE! (Pause for applause.)”
“Pause for applause… Why on Affirm would I say, ‘pause for—’ Oh! I get it now. I need to pause for the inevitable ap-plause, ho-ha funny that!” he chuckles.
Satisfied Mr. Kinetic, turns to survey the view from his office window. Below, employees are still arriving. Above, the first sun is still low in the sky, and the second sun has yet to appear. A good leader is always at his desk before second sunrise. One must be at the ready for any emerg—
“Emergency! Emergency!”
Mr. Kinetic turns to find the source of the announcement, an out-of-breath vice-counsellor, emerging from the hall.
“Rest easy, Sir. Your leader is ready. Speak your dilemma.”
“It’s the waste-collection hovercrafts, sir. One of them has a malfunction!” puffs the counsellor.
“Is that all, Counsellor? Why, this is no emergency! We have dozens of waste-collection hovercrafts in the fleet. One can simply take the malfunctioning craft’s place at first sunset, after it has completed its usual route.”
“Its not the lack of crafts, Your Excellency, it’s—well—look for yourself!”
Mr. Kinetic takes the proffered holo-tablet and begins to scroll. “I still don’t see…” he begins.
“Great Galaxy!” he cries. “Counsellor, you should have led with this information!”
“I-I-I apologize, I…”
“No time, Counsellor! We must act at once! This waste-collection craft must start its route as scheduled. It simply MUS—” Mr. Kinetic’s sentence is cut short as he steps on his teleportation pad and vanishes.
“MUST!” he finishes, now at waste-collection headquarters.
“Everyone, everyone, listen to me! We need a hovercraft to pass as Route 3’s hovercraft. Which is the closest? We must consider dents, scratches, and smells! And paint! We must repaint the ID number immediately! You there, and you! Make haste!”
A startled manager approaches, “Surely Mr. Mayor, one of the crafts can cover the route at first sunset. Is this really necess—”
The manager is cut short as Mr. Kinetic thrusts the holo-tablet into his hands. His eyes narrow, then widen.
“Great Galaxy, Mayor! You should have let with this information! Double-time, everyone! This craft must depart in two minutes!” he responds.
Two minutes later, the retrofitted craft leaves headquarters. A puffing mayor, a puffing manager, and two puffing employees speckled with paint look on with pride.
Mr. Kinetic turns with a smile “Great work, everyone. Your heroic efforts today will not go unnoticed. For somewhere, on Route 3 right now, there is a child.
A child who has been up since first sunrise to await this hovercraft.
A child who has lined up all their toys, so they too can witness the craft in action.
A child whose internal clock, daily schedule, and general well-being depends on the regular sighting of his beloved waste-hovercraft.
Today, this child has received the very best care this planet has to offer.
Today, the founders of Planet Affirm would be proud.”
A few months ago, I posted these words on social media:
The garbage truck didn’t come this morning.
It happens. Trucks break down. People go on holidays. The route gets covered eventually, usually by late afternoon. No big deal.
Except in our house. And maybe yours.
In our house, the garbage truck not coming means chaos, and disaster. It means I have to comfort a tween who is shaking, crying, scratching his head, and talking to himself. It means our whole day is ruined.
This is the delicate house of cards we live in. This is Autism. If you know, you know.
The life we’ve built for our kids is so beautiful. It is full of wonder and magic. It is something I nurture and treasure.
But it is so, so fragile.
As I typed that post, I found myself wondering what a world built for Autism would look like, so I opened a notetaking app and created one. And Mayor Kinetic and Planet Affirm were born.
Sadness and joy. Pain and hope. Despair and humor. I hold both in my hands every day.
It is easy to look at a family like mine, see the structures we’ve put into place that allow us to cope, and assume that we are ok.
We are not ok.
We live in a house of cards. One that gets knocked and destroyed regularly. I don’t think many people realize this. I think that’s why there are so few people there to pick up the cards when they fall.
Reach out to the special-needs or medically-complex family that you know. The life you see them leading is so very very fragile, and chances are, they are not ok.
//www.instagram.com/embed.js
©Ashley Lilley – First time commenting? Please read my Comment Policy.
Discover more from Ashley Lilley
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Ashley Lilley 
Well done Ashley. Thanks again for reminding everyone that just because everything may look good from the outside, often it is not so on the inside. You guys have done such a wonderful job of learning/teaching/adjusting/coping/adapting/LOVING…. Thumbs up! Well done! We are very proud of you and your beautiful family!!!
LikeLike